Another bit more lighthearted chapter here - in a way! Our girl's getting older, too.

I've really appreciated the feedback, but I have noticed the none of my fics seem to be getting many reviews. I am concerned that people aren't reading them, so if you could just give me a wave if you're still reading, please do! If there's anything you want me to do to make things more interesting, please don't hesitate to leave constructive criticism. Same applies for all my fics :).

I am in the middle of my uni coursework and exam at the moment, so please bear with me!

Thanks again - enjoy Carla being a little cutie. :)

Chloe xoxo

oooooooooooooooo

26th June 1981

He would recognise that giggle anywhere. Curiously, Johnny stepped closer to his living room window, shielded by the net curtains which his wife had bought at the weekend. A smile twitched at his lips as he watched her, Carla, hopping quickly and expertly over her skipping rope. Robbie, aged three, watched her, wide-eyed, from his seat on the curb, his thumb stuck in his mouth for comfort. He had discarded his pile of building blocks in favour of observing his sister, enviously.

"Watch me, Daddy!" Carla squealed, her eyes bright as she completed a complicated-looking step before landing elegantly and beaming at the man stood behind her, who was instead staring at the screen of his mobile telephone, a cigarette hanging out of his mouth. "Daddy?" she tried again, her smile fading. The man glanced up.

"Hm? Oh, that was great, kiddo," Scott replied, half-heartedly.

"You weren't even watching…" Carla sighed sadly, trudging over to the curb to sit beside her brother and tossing her skipping rope aside. At the age of six, she was able to pick up on the feelings of adults; she was well aware when somebody wasn't interested in her and when she was fighting a losing battle. Rolling his eyes, Scott crouched behind her, not wanting to get into trouble with her mother for returning a grumpy child.

"Course I was. I'm good at watching things that are going on around me," he teased, before grabbing her by the waist and tickling her stomach, prompting the little girl to laugh uncontrollably.

"Daddy, stop!" she shrieked excitedly, trying to wriggle free from his grasp, "Robbie, make him stop!" Eager to join in with the fun, little Robbie leapt to his feet and launched himself at his father, grabbing onto his arm. Scott chuckled, lifting the small boy into the sky.

"Gotcha now, kid!" he roared, causing Robbie to squeal and kick his legs wildly.

Inside, Johnny tutted, leaning against the back of his sofa and folding his arms across his chest. He narrowed his eyes at the young father. Scott had dumped Sharon mere days before her night with Johnny. He'd never given any indication that he doubted being the child's father, though everyone on the estate was aware of Sharon's ways around the time of Carla's conception. Reuniting with Sharon just before she'd announced her pregnancy, he'd taken on the role of Carla's parent, before having a second child with her a couple of years later. Robbie was definitely his son, the resemblance between the two of them was uncanny. Robbie had inherited his sparkling blue eyes and thick brunette locks from his father, whilst Carla's hair was raven black and her eyes emerald green, exactly like her mother's.

Then, the pair had split up again a few months after Robbie's birth, and Scott had visited his children every other weekend ever since. He'd been a partial-father, there for the good bits and skipping all the bad. When Sharon needed money for new school uniforms, or shoes, or dinner for the week, where was he then? Johnny tore his eyes from the family scene in front of him and instead slumped on his sofa to watch television. His wife was still at work, working overtime to save up for a little getaway for them that summer. Johnny, meanwhile, had had an office meeting and had been gifted the afternoon off. No matter how hard he tried to engulf himself in whatever dreary television series he'd landed on, he couldn't block out the joyous laughter from outside.

He remained in his position for around half an hour, before realising that the little giggles and squeals had ceased. Curiously, he rose to his feet once again and drifted over to the window, where he felt a tight constricting feeling in his chest as he watched Carla throw her arms around her father and squeeze him tightly, tiny tears dripping down her cheeks.

"Don't go…" she mumbled sadly into Scott's shoulder, leaving tearstains on his coat. Scott merely placed her down on the curb and dropped a kiss to the top of her head. Sharon had joined the family; she was clutching a tired Robbie in her arms, and her green eyes were narrowed at her former flame, who merely sighed.

"You knew this was coming, Shaz…"

"Doesn't make it any nicer for them, does it?" she snapped, furiously, "You're not the one who's gonna have to deal with two screaming kids wondering where their dad is!" Lost for words, Scott brushed his fingertip over Robbie's cheek, who turned and shielded his face in his mother's chest. Slowly, Scott turned and headed for the shiny sports car which was parked up the curb beside them, slipping inside without giving the children a second glance. The three plus Johnny watched as Scott revved his engine and sped off down the street, with Carla staring forlornly after him, tears still spilling down her cheeks. "Carla, are you coming in for dinner?" her mother asked. Carla merely shook her head. With a disgruntled sigh, Sharon turned her back on her six-year-old and ambled her way over to her flat, Robbie still balanced on her hip.

Johnny watched the exchange, his mouth dropped open in horror. He may not have had a very influential presence in Carla's life, but he could not comprehend how a mother could leave her little girl alone in the street in floods of tears. Carla sorrowfully kicked the loose stones beneath her feet with the toe of her battered trainers, gathering her skipping rope from beside her and picking at the foam handle. In a heartbeat and before he knew what he was doing, Johnny was outside, clutching a supermarket carrier bag tightly in his hand and warily approaching the small girl, not wanting to startle her.

"Carla?" he tried, softly, causing Carla to raise her head with a slight jolt. "Hiya, love. You okay?" She shrugged her shoulders and dropped the skipping rope to the floor, picking her fingernails instead.

"My Daddy left."

"Did he?" Johnny couldn't deny the pang of envy and guilt that shot through him hearing Carla refer to another man as 'Dad', particularly one who hadn't shown anywhere as much interest in her as she deserved. "He'll be back in a couple of weeks, though, won't he?" Carla shook her head.

"No. He's not coming again. He said he was moving away and he's never coming back." Her voice broke and another wave of tears brimmed in her eyes. His heart aching, Johnny crouched to her level and perched on the pavement beside her, despite the pain that it caused his aging back.

"I see… Is he going far?"

"Burning Ham."

"Birmingham?" A chuckle passed his lips at Carla's childlike error, though he quickly suppressed it as the child let out a heartfelt sob. "'Ey, love, I'm sure it'll be alright… I'm sure he'll let you phone him, you'll be able to talk to him all the time…"

"Mummy's happy when he's here. It's the only time she's not sad or angry," Carla confessed, shuffling up a little closer to the man who she had grown to trust and feel comfortable around. Johnny froze, hesitating before posing his next question.

"Does Mummy get angry with you a lot?"

"Not really. She doesn't talk to me sometimes. She's always busy on the phone. I like it when Daddy comes because he plays with me and Robbie and we don't have to play on our own. He's only three and he can't play my games with me," Carla explained, innocently. Johnny smiled down at her and slipped an arm around her shoulder, pulling her in closer to him in a loving hug.

"'Ey, now if you ever need someone to play with, you can always come and find me, alright? I'm good at games, me."

"And Auntie Louise?" Johnny nodded in agreement. It warmed his heart how attached Carla had become to his wife.

"And Auntie Louise. She's even better at games than me. Here, I got you something from the shop the other day," he replied, offering the carrier bag to the sad little girl, who took it from him cautiously. She raised an eyebrow.

"What is it, Uncle Johnny?"

"Open it, silly." The girl peeked inside the bag, her emerald eyes lighting up in sheer delight when she realised what the contents were.

"Pink Princess Barbie!" she squealed excitedly, tossing the carrier bag to the floor and examining the beautiful doll complete with dozens of accessories and a few outfits, a much more expensive toy than she'd ever owned before. "I wanted one for Christmas but Santa ran out! Thank you, Uncle Johnny!" she sung, throwing her arms around Johnny's neck and squeezing him, gleefully. Johnny hugged her back, wishing more than anything that he didn't have to let her go. But, of course, give a six-year-old a Barbie doll and there's no holding them back. Her thoughts and worries of her father quickly drained away, and Carla leapt to her feet, bouncing up and down on the spot in joy. "I want to go home and put her in my Barbie castle!" Johnny smiled. As Sharon had nowhere near enough money to buy one of the lavish Barbie castles for her daughter, Carla has improvised and made her own out of cardboard, which she'd eagerly shown Johnny on many of his visits to the flat.

"Come on then, Princess. Let's get you and Barbie home…" Johnny hauled himself to his feet, groaning at the stiffness of his back, and ushering the small girl in the direction of her home. The grin plastered across her face was wider than it had been all day.